Queed eBook

Yet an hour a day is not pried out of a sacred schedule
of work without pains and anguish, and it was with
a grim face that the Doc turned back to William Klinker.

“Very well, Mr. Klinker, I will agree to make
the experiment, tentatively—­an hour a day
for thirty days only.”

“Right for you, Doc! You’ll never
be sorry—­take it from me.”

Klinker was a brisk, efficient young man. The
old gang that had fitted out the gymnasium had drifted
away, and the thought of going once more into regular
training, with a pupil all his own, was breath to his
nostrils. He assumed charge of the ceded hour
with skilled sureness. Rain or shine, the Doctor
was to take half an hour’s hard walking in the
air every day, over and above the walk to the office.
Every afternoon at six—­at which hour the
managerial duties at Stark’s terminated—­he
was to report in the gym for half an hour’s
vigorous work on the apparatus. This iron-clad
regime was to go into effect on the morrow.

“I’ll look at you stripped,” said
Klinker, eyeing his new pupil thoughtfully, “and
see first what you need. Then I’ll lay out
a reg’lar course for you—­exercises
for all parts of the body. Got any trunks?”

Queed looked surprised. “I have one small
one—­a steamer trunk, as it is called.”

Klinker explained what he meant, and the Doctor feared
that his wardrobe contained no such article.

“Ne’mmind. I can fit you up with
a pair. Left Hand Tom’s they used to be,
him that died of the scarlet fever Thanksgiving.
And say, Doc!”

Klinker came toward him holding out an object made
of red velveteen about the size of a pocket handkerchief.

“Put these where you can find them to-morrow.
You can have ’em. Left Hand Tom’s
gone where he don’t need ’em any more.”

“What are they? What does one do with them?”

“They’re your trunks. You wear ’em.”

“Where? On—­what portion, I mean?”

“They’re like little pants,” said
Klinker.

The two men walked home together over the frozen streets.
Queed was taciturn and depressed. He was annoyed
by Klinker’s presence and irritated by his conversation;
he wanted nothing in the world so much as to be let
alone. But honest Buck Klinker remained unresponsive
to his mood. All the way to Mrs. Paynter’s
he told his new pupil grisly stories of men he had
known who had thought that they could work all day
and all night, and never take any exercise. Buck
kindly offered to show the Doc their graves.

VIII

Formal Invitation to Fifi to share Queed’s Dining-Room (provided
it is very cold upstairs); and First Outrage upon the Sacred
Schedule of Hours.